


A Second Attachment

by scarletseeker113



Category: Sense and Sensibility (1995), Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Wedding, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletseeker113/pseuds/scarletseeker113
Summary: “Marianne, tell me you care for me,” he whispered. “I cannot believe it.”
Relationships: Colonel Brandon/Marianne Dashwood
Comments: 28
Kudos: 212





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have more to this work, but we'll see if I post it or not. I'm not sure. (It's been years since I've posted a fic.) Let me know what you think!

Marianne escaped Barton Cottage with a measure of guilt. She stepped off the path just a little ways away from the house. She didn’t want to go far when she was still recovering from her ordeal in the rain. 

She sank down onto a log, heedless of her dress. She propped her chin in her hand and stared at the dirt. 

Of course, it was wonderful that Elinor and Edward were getting married. She was truly happy for them. Especially for Elinor, who had suffered in silence for so long. 

The atmosphere in the cottage was too much at present moment with the happy couple, an ecstatic mother, and an overjoyed younger sister at finally having an attentive brother. Hence Marianne’s necessity of escape.

It would be better, she reflected, if she hadn’t completely ruined her future prospects of happiness. She had acted like a fool with Willoughby, she knew that. All of society knew it, in fact. Her reputation was in tatters, no respectable man would want to be connected to her. 

She had had hopes just a few days ago… 

Colonel Brandon had been very attentive to her since rescuing her from the rain, but he’d had to go away on business. He had said he would be back two days ago, but the days had passed with no visitors on the horizon.

The days spent gazing out the window helped Marianne discover her true feelings about Colonel Brandon. She missed him. She wished to spend more time with him. She wished …

It didn’t matter what she wished, for clearly he was looking to distance himself from her and her family. Her name was tarnished, and he was a gentleman. Besides, she had been thinking of his character, which was constant in kindness. Surely he was just being kind to her after her ordeal with Willoughby. He had mostly likely let go of the affection he’d felt for her long ago.

Marianne finally allowed herself to give into her melancholy and cry. 

It was the deepest irony that she would discover these feelings now, when he wished to separate himself from her. If only she hadn’t been so foolish! Perhaps she would have seen Colonel Brandon’s attributes sooner. Perhaps by now they would already been happily married.

A sob broke through as she thought of being married to him, spending the evenings with him listening to him reading to her, not feeling restricted when it came to touching him, perhaps even kissing him.

She wished she could remember being carried in his arms as he brought her out of the rain. 

Marianne wiped away her tears. She had to control her emotions. She needed to get back to the cottage. She told her family she wouldn’t be gone for long, and given her recent health they would come looking for her if she took too long.

She took a deep shuddering breath and felt it reverberate through her chest as she stood up.

“Miss Marianne?” a deep voice came from her right. She whirled around, recognizing the owner of the voice immediately, and blushing deeply.

“Colonel Brandon!” She exclaimed, hoping very much that her tears were not still on her cheeks, and that her eyes were not puffy.

“Are you quite alright?” he asked. His voice was even, his expression mostly blank, but she knew him well enough to detect genuine concern. It was in the downward quirk of his mouth, in the slight furrow of his brows, and most of all, in the way his eyes bore into her.

“Quite,” she managed, but her voice cracked in the middle of the word, and this was all that was needed to set her off to crying again. 

She turned away, horrified at the fresh tears, and clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle any noises.

“Forgive me, Colonel,” she began.

He had already made his way around her body to stand in front of her. His hand proffered a fresh handkerchief, which she took, dabbing at her running nose and wiping at the tears on her cheeks.

“Has someone hurt you?” he asked. His deep voice reverberated through her body, making her stomach tighten and quiver.

“No, no,” she protested. “I promise, it is only…” she trailed off, realizing that she obviously could not tell him that she was crying about him. 

“He is not worth your tears, my Lady,” Colonel Brandon said quietly.

“What?” Marianne asked, thinking perhaps he was referencing Edward, thinking that she didn’t approve of the match between he and Elinor, but he couldn’t even know of the match yet. And then she comprehended: He thought she was weeping over Willoughby. “Oh, no!” She protested again. “It is not due to him.” 

Something in Colonel Brandon’s demeanor relaxed. 

“No, I am being selfish,” Marianne said with a small laugh. She peered up at his face to see how he would respond.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “How so?” he asked. 

“You will not judge me?” Marianne asked.

He took his hat off, held it over his heart and vowed, “Never.”

She smiled at the sight of him, and he smiled back, the first true smile of this meeting. Marianne felt her thighs clench at the sight, although she didn’t know why.

“I suppose you have not heard of the happy news of Elinor's recent engagement?” 

“Mrs. Jennings was sure to inform me of it as soon as I dismounted,” Colonel Brandon answered.

“You were at Barton Park?” Marianne asked, distressed that he should visit them before herself.

“Only to beg the use of a bedroom for a night,” he said. “Do you not approve of the match?” he asked, changing the subject back.

“Oh no, I esteem Edward greatly and will happily claim him as a brother.” Marianne assured him.

“Then what is the problem?” Colonel Brandon asked, perplexed. 

Marianne blushed. “This is where I am being selfish. I was just thinking that I have ruined my name quite thoroughly with my past behavior. I am sure that no proper bachelor would ever want to marry me now.”

“I very much doubt that,” Colonel Brandon said.

Marianne waved it away. She desperately wanted to ask what had delayed his visit, but was too afraid of being presumptuous. She had no true demands on his time, no matter how badly she wished his company.

Her eyes fell from his face, afraid that if she looked at him any more then she would blurt the question out. Her gaze fell to his shoulders, which were wide and filled out his coat nicely. She longed to put her hands on them, perhaps drape her arms around his neck. She shook herself from her thoughts and said, “I am very glad to see you.” She cursed her tongue immediately. He was wanting distance, and she was reaching for his time with greedy hands!

“I am sorry I was delayed,” Colonel Brandon said. “It was unavoidable,” he grimaced. “I had to find a replacement for my solicitor. He died recently.”

“Oh,” Marianne said, a strange hope rising within her. “I am sorry to hear of that.”

“But I do not come late empty handed,” He said with a smile. Marianne felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of his wide, unreserved smile. He was terribly handsome.

He held out a few papers that she hadn’t noticed he was holding. She took it. 

“A new piece of music!” she exclaimed.

“It is by a new composer,” he explained. “I thought we might play it together once we’ve each learned the parts.”

Marianne saw that it was indeed a duet, and relief rushed through her, as strong as a coursing river. She pressed the music to her chest and felt the tears come again. She cursed her emotions for betraying her yet again, but she had always found it hard to stop crying once she had begun.

“Marianne?” Colonel Brandon asked in alarm. “Have I offended you?”

She used his handkerchief to wipe away her tears and smiled tremulously. “Not at all, sir. I am deeply flattered that you wish to play with me.”

He reached a hand out as if to touch her and let it fall midway through the gesture as if he realized the intent was not appropriate.

“Marianne, I feel that you are not telling me everything that is distressing you,” Colonel Brandon said though stiff lips. He had become serious in the face of her tears and his body was tense, as if ready to spring into action. “You know you may tell me anything?” he said. “Anything at all, and if it is in my power to make you happy, I will do it.”

She looked up at him, his face etched in seriousness at the pronouncement. She ached for his touch, for anything to give her comfort.

“Do you care for me that much, sir?” she asked, almost flippantly. She was trying to get her emotions in check before she did something foolish.

“I care for you deeply,” Colonel Brandon said quietly, looking determinedly away from her.

All of the propriety that Marianne had been trying to hang onto so intently over the last few months vanished as he made eye contact with her. His eyes pierced into her, his expression fighting to stay blank as the anguish of her tears affected him.

Marianne flung herself towards him, throwing her arms around his neck as she had just been wishing to do. He hesitated for just a moment before wrapping his arms securely around her and pressing her closer to his body. His shoulders hunched down and he buried his face into her hair, breathing deeply. 

“I was afraid that your delay was intentional,” Marianne said. “I thought you wanted to distance yourself from my ruined name, and I could not even blame you for it!” She clutched at his jacket as he tried to move back to look at her face, holding him in place against her. 

“You missed me,” Colonel Brandon breathed in awe.

Marianne pressed her face into his shoulder, no doubt soaking his jacket in water and snot but she did not care––he was holding her in his arms. 

“I could not bear the thought of your visits becoming more and more infrequent, until we only saw each other because we both happened to be invited to Barton Park,” Marianne cried, and this time when he pulled away she allowed it.

He reached up to cradle her face in his hands. She clutched at his elbows. She was sure that she looked a sight, her hair was most likely mussed, her eyes were swollen, and her nose was red. But he looked at her tenderly. His gaze was so sweet that a few more tears leaked out of her eyes.

“And this thought was enough to come out here on your own and weep?” he asked. brushing away her tears with his thumbs.

She nodded.

“Marianne, tell me you care for me,” he whispered. “I cannot believe it.”

“I care for you,” she said, her voice breaking again. “I think…” she trailed off. The words stuck in her throat, and her eyes drifted down to his chin.

“Marianne?” The voice of Margaret from the trail interrupted them.

Colonel Brandon let go of her immediately. Marianne stumbled and noticed the music on the ground, she couldn’t remember dropping it.

She bent down to pick it up, and stood again on trembling legs. 

Colonel Brandon offered her his assistance, as Margaret said, “There you are!”

“Captain Margaret,” Colonel Brandon offered a salute. “We were just returning to the cottage.”

“I’m so happy you’re back,” Margaret said. “You’ll get to meet Edward!” 

Colonel Brandon tucked Marianne’s arm into his his with a firmness that caused her stomach to tremble. He led her out on the path and they followed Margaret back to the cottage, with Margaret chattering all the while.

“And then he got down on one knee, I had to spy on them from the treehouse so I could get a proper look, and Mother and Marianne were weeping, and so was Elinor, but Edward kissed her anyway.”

Colonel Brandon looked sideways at Marianne and she blushed. She had been so certain that they themselves were on their way to a similar conclusion when Margaret interrupted. 

They were back at the cottage in no time, and Mrs. Dashwood came out to greet them. 

“Colonel Brandon! No wonder Marianne was delayed.”

“We ran into each other on the trail,” he let go of Marianne’s arm and bowed. 

“Come in, come in,” Mrs. Dashwood said. “It’s about time that you meet the man you offered a parish to,” she said with a smile. “Who would have thought at the time that Elinor would be the mistress of it!”

Colonel Brandon gestured Marianne in front of him and as she passed through the doorway she felt his hand on the small of his back.

She so wished she could drag him away from this cottage and wrap her arms around him again.

“Colonel Brandon!” Elinor cried, rising from the sofa and giving him a shallow curtsey. “May I introduce Edward Ferras?” Elinor was truly, gloriously happy and it shone through her face. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last,” Colonel Brandon replied. “Since you are in the vicinity, perhaps one day soon we may visit the rectory and see what repairs need to be made before your wedding.”

“Thank you so much for your kindness, Colonel Brandon,” Edward said a bit formally. “It means a great deal to me to have a living, especially now.” His gaze slid to Elinor with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“I will be happy to have you both close by, and I hope we shall be friends.” Colonel Brandon said.

Edward gave him a short bow and they all sat down again.

Conversation resumed, mostly about the impending wedding, which had been the sole topic of conversation for the last two days.

Marianne grew restless. Colonel Brandon was sitting on his own in a chair, and she was squashed onto one small sofa with her mother and Margaret. She tapped her foot impatiently, and kept looking at Colonel Brandon. Every once in a while their gazes would brush across each other, and she blushed furiously.

He kept up with the conversation, Marianne tuned it out entirely. Her gaze roved over his body, his strong jawline, the hair that curled at the back of his neck, his hands as they gripped the arms of the chair he was in.

She longed to touch him again.

“I hope you will excuse Marianne and myself,” Colonel Brandon’s voice rumbled through her body. “We are making great progress on our latest read and wish to continue.”

Marianne sprang up from the sofa and snatched the mentioned book off of one of the end tables.

“Shall we sit outside?” she asked breathlessly, eager for fresh air and for his time to be hers alone.

“As you wish,” Colonel Brandon said with a smile.

They made their way to the chairs that were set out still from their last reading and settled into them.

He opened the book to start reading but she touched his sleeve lightly, and withdrew immediately, afraid someone in the cottage might see them. “Colonel Brandon, did I ruin everything?” she asked. She was sure that she hadn’t, but she didn’t want to ignore their conversation among the trees, and she couldn’t think of an easier way to bring it up.

“On the contrary,” Colonel Brandon said, looking directly at her. “You have made me a very happy man.” His words rolled across her skin, pebbling it with goosebumps. 

She smiled happily and leaned in towards him. “And what do we do now?” He gazed at her, his eyes slipping down to her mouth, and Marianne felt anticipation curl in her stomach, even though they were too exposed for a kiss. 

“I’ll ask your mother to court you tomorrow,” Colonel Brandon said. 

“Have you not been courting me for months?” Marianne asked, looking at the book he held in his hands. She settled back in her chair. “Edward and Elinor are not getting married for two months,” she said apropos of nothing, and watched confusion cross his face.

“Yes, they just told me that.”

“It sounds like an exquisite torture,” Marianne said. 

A smile played at his lips now as he asked, “Why?”

“To know that you’re going to marry a man, that you’re going to share your life with him, to live with him, to be with him in every way, but not be able to do it yet?” She shook her head. “It sounds like purgatory. As if you have sinned by falling in love, and are waiting for the heaven of marriage.”

Colonel Brandon let out a laugh that sailed above the trees. She watched him with a smile on her face. She liked making him laugh.

When he had finished he placed a finger on the side of Marianne’s hand, so as not to be seen by those in the house should they look. He traced her hand to the tip of her pinky finger and then back to her wrist. 

“Are you quite sure about me?” Colonel Brandon asked. “You have suffered a recent heartache, and I can think of no worse fate than having you as my wife, but you being unhappy in that role.”

Marianne would be offended, but she had spent the last few weeks thinking about the same thing herself.

“I deeply regret ever being involved with Willoughby,” Marianne started slowly. “I was foolish, and blind to his true character. Looking back, I can see the inconsistencies in the way he spoke and in the way he acted. I have spent the last few weeks ruminating on whether or not I could feel so much for another man so soon. I have thought of your behavior, of your kindness to Edward, a stranger to you. I have thought of you constancy in being Margaret’s friend despite her young age. I remember your kindness towards me, even when I was acting abominably rude to you.” She blushed. “I feel terribly ashamed of the way I behaved towards you when we first met,” she said quietly. “I wish I had recognized your attributes sooner. It has been a lesson to me, I think, to truly observe a person before forming opinions on them.”

His hand creeped up over hers and squeezed it.

“After I finished thinking through our acquaintance, not omitting your valiant rescue of me from the rain, and your ride to bring Mama to me, and your constant vigilance at my bedside, I concluded that you were the best man I knew of my acquaintance. And not only that but I had stronger feelings for you than just respect.” She blushed deeply. “Much stronger feelings,” she whispered.

“And what might those feelings be?” he asked in a low voice.

Marianne squirmed in her seat, and looked forward, away from him.

“Marianne,” he said. She turned her face towards him again, her fearful eyes locking onto his. “I will never hurt you,” he told her. “I would never cause you intentional pain.”

“I know,” Marianne whispered.

“Then tell me what you feel. I will not reject you. I find it incredible that you have any feelings for me at all.”

Marianne stared into his dark eyes. “I am––” she looked down at her twisting hands rather than looking at him while she said it. “I am quite in love with you.”

She saw his hand come into her vision and he tugged on her chin to make her look at him. His eyes searched her face, looking for confirmation. 

She took a deep breath and said again, “I love you.”

He examined her a minute more, memorizing her face. Then, in an impossibly low voice, he said, “Thank God,” and kissed her.

Marianne clutched a hand into his shirt in surprise. His lips pressed against hers softly. He sighed a little, angled himself a bit differently and gently sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling at it.

She pressed closer, her other hand gripping at his jacket. He kissed her gently and slowly. 

She wanted more, desperately. 

To think that she had ever thought him unattractive! Or incapable of passion! She was certainly learning better now.

She kissed him back hesitantly, learning how to do it.

He pulled away all too soon. “Your family could be watching,” he reminded her in a low voice.

She blushed furiously. “And are you going to tell me your feelings for me?” she asked archly, trying to recover from the kiss.

“I have loved you since the first moment I saw you,” Colonel Brandon responded seriously. “And I would happily marry you on any day of your choosing.”

Marianne smiled, removing her hand from his shirt. “That was not a question, sir.” 

He slid from his stool next to her chair and onto his knee immediately. “Will you be my wife?” His leg was trembling, she noticed. She knew it was not due to anything other than nerves, even after their declarations.

She took his face into his hands, said “Of course,” and bestowed another, briefer kiss upon him.

“You name the day, and I will be at the church,” Colonel Brandon told her seriously.

“Christopher,” Marianne whispered. “I love you.”

His eyes crinkled at the edges and he smiled wide. He laughed suddenly and said, “Your family has definitely noticed me on bended knee.”

Marianne turned around to look at the cottage to find several backs to her, obviously just turned.

She laughed freely. She turned back to her fiancee, who had reseated himself on his stool. “Can you get a license?” she asked.

“I can ride to meet the Bishop tomorrow and will be back before dark,” he confirmed.

“Then let us get married this week!” Marianne said. “I don’t want to wait overly long.”

“Do you not want to at least wait to find a new dress?” he asked.

“No, it would only delay things, besides Elinor should get the new dress,” she said absently.

When she’d realized what she had said, she looked up at his face. But surely he knew that she didn’t have much of a dowry? 

“I’ll take you to London, and you can get as many new dresses as you want,” Colonel Brandon promised.

“After we marry,” she said, “A dress shouldn’t delay this transcendent happiness.”

“Yes, after we are husband and wife,” he answered.

“Husband,” she mused, and a wide smile lit her face up. She stood and pulled the Colonel by the hand. “Let us go share the happy news.”

He laughed, and followed her along.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engagement + Wedding +Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the rating has exchanged to explicit!

The next day, predictably, brought Sir John and Mrs. Jennings to Barton Cottage.

“I said it would happen!” Mrs. Jennings said to no one in particular. “And here it is, Colonel Brandon and Marianne, and Elinor has secured her Mr. F! Now we just need to get Margaret married off.”

“I don’t want to get married,” Margaret protested.

“You’ll change your mind in a few years, I daresay,” Sir John laughed.

Mrs. Jennings started speaking again. “Now, we have come to invite you all to Barton Park tomorrow evening, to celebrate the recent engagements. We simply must get to know Mr. Ferras better, and of course Colonel Brandon will have returned by then,” she winked at Marianne.

“We would be delighted,” Mrs. Dashwood replied. “It’s so kind of you to host Colonel Brandon for the next few days before the wedding.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Sir John answered. “I’m just happy to see him so happy.”

Marianne looked down at her hands to hide her smile. She wished she could see him today, she was beginning to imagine horrible scenarios where he would come back from obtaining the marriage license and tell her that he had decided he didn’t want her after all. She knew it was nonsense, but there it was. 

After an interminable stay Mrs. Jennings and Sir John took their leave. 

The rest of the day was spent in a daze, trying to sort through what things Marianne would take with her to Delaford.

“I hope you don’t feel as if I am stealing all of your excitement, Elinor,” Marianne said, sitting on the edge of their bed.

Elinor sat next to her. “I am perfectly happy to see you so happy to become Mrs. Brandon,” she answered. “Besides you have a house ready for you, Edward and I have to attend to more practical matters before we can get married.”

Marianne grasped her hands. “I’ll be sure that all the repairs will be done in good order,” she promised. “Surely they’ll be done faster if the mistress of the estate checks in on the house daily?”

Elinor laughed and hugged her. “You are very sure that this is what you want?” 

Marianne nodded. “Very sure,” she said.

Elinor pulled back from her and frowned, detecting an off note in her sister’s response. “What’s wrong, dearest?”

Marianne sighed. “I hate Willoughby,” she said morosely. “He left me without an explanation, and then to find out that he married an heiress. It makes me afraid that Colonel Brandon will come tomorrow and tell me that he has decided not to marry me. I have no dowry, and I ruined my name quite thoroughly. And I know that Colonel Brandon is a much better man,” she asserted quickly. “I know that he loves me, but still I worry!”

Elinor took her hand. “I have never seen a man so distressed as he was when you were ill.”

Marianne looked up at her.

“We have never actually spoken directly of his affection for you, but we have spoken around it,” Elinor said. “And I feel I can say with a certainty that Colonel Brandon would never desert you while there was still breath in his lungs.”

Marianne smiled. “I know,” she said quietly. “I keep telling my fears to leave me. But I will not breathe easy again until I see him tomorrow.”

Elinor squeezed her hand, and they went back to organizing. 

* * *

The next day Marianne was up early, sitting next to the window, ostensibly embroidering, but truly thinking about Colonel Brandon. She hoped he would come to see her, and she wouldn’t have to wait for the evening at Barton Park to be in his presence. 

She ate a light breakfast with the family and resumed her vigil. It was midmorning when she saw a horse approaching with a familiar figure on it’s back.

She threw her embroidery hoop aside and rushed out the door. She clutched at the fence as she waited for Colonel Brandon to dismount. He offered her a wide grin and took her hand and kissed it.

Marianne blushed with pleasure.

“Did all go well?” she asked anxiously. 

“Perfectly,” he answered, tucking her arm through his.

Marianne tightened her grip on him. “Mrs. Jennings offered to have our wedding breakfast at Barton Park if we so chose. But I told her I would consult with you before a final decision. I thought you might like to host it at your ancestral home?” She looked up at him.

“Whatever you desire,” he said simply.

“But I have no opinion on the matter, so you must make this decision.” Marianne said with a teasing grin. 

“Then let Mrs. Jennings do the work,” Colonel Brandon said. “Then we may leave when we want, without having to wait for any lingering guests to leave.”

“Good, we’ll tell her tonight.” Marianne led him over to the chairs in front of the house. They each settled in one. “I want your time to myself for a while longer,” she confessed.

“All of my time is yours,” he said.

Marianne stared at him, memorizing his face. “What day this week do you prefer?” she asked breathlessly.

“This decision rests solely on you,” Colonel Brandon said with crooked smile. “It depends on how quickly you can get your affairs in order.”

“They are in order,” she said. “I know what I would like to take with me, and I know what I will wear to be married in. What else is there?”

“Then what day do you choose?” he asked.

“Tomorrow?” Marianne asked breathlessly.

He smiled and leaned in towards her. “Perhaps that is too short notice on poor Mrs. Jennings cook.”

Marianne’s face fell. He was quite right. No one in the kitchens would get any sleep that night if they were to be married tomorrow.

“Then overmorrow,” she answered. “But no later.”

A small, almost private smile overtook his face, and she leaned forward.

“What is behind that smile?” Marianne asked.

He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I like that you are eager to be my wife.” 

Marianne felt blood rush to her cheeks at his nearness, and the feel of his breath on her ear.

“Do you pretend to not be eager?” Marianne asked.

Colonel Brandon moved back to look at her face once more. “If your family and Mrs. Jennings would not condemn me, I would carry you to my horse and ride back to Delaford this instant.”

“I would not condemn you for that,” Marianne breathed.

“Do not tempt me, Marianne,” his voice was so deep that it rumbled her bones and made her shiver.

A wanting came over her so suddenly that she didn’t know how to process it. She leaned back, studying him. 

“Did I scare you?” he asked, looking worried.

“No,” she answered honestly. Lust coursed through her. She had felt what she thought was lust before, but that was just excitement at the thought of being kissed. This––she wished that he would carry her to his horse. That they would ride off together, but not to Delaford. No, somewhere where they wouldn’t be discovered so easily. So that she could enjoy him, and he could enjoy her. She struggled to think the words, or to even conjure the visual images that described marital intimacy. But she knew she wanted it. 

“Do we need a wedding breakfast?” she asked. By now she had turned completely in her chair, with one leg bent and tucked other the other one. It was a completely improper position, but it allowed her to look at him, to be nearer to him.

He smiled his slow smile again, and his eyes took on a glaze that told her he was thinking of other things.

“I’m afraid so,” he answered finally. 

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Marianne asked, suddenly wondering if he had things to do with his last day as a bachelor.

“I’m afraid not,” he answered. “If we’re getting married so soon I should go to Delaford and arrange everything.”

Marianne frowned and flopped back into her chair. 

“It will only be one day,” he assured her, “and then we will be married.”

Marianne looked over at him with a small pout. “I will miss you,” she said.

His eyes crinkling were his only outward sign of amusement at her dramatics. “I will miss you as well,” he answered.

“How long can two days feel?” Marianne wondered aloud. “A lifetime, no doubt.”

* * *

It was indeed a lifetime before Marianne had her bouquet in hand and a veil over her face. But, Marianne reflected, it had simultaneously gone rather quickly.

The ceremony was quite short, and with only local guests due to the quick planning of the event. Colonel Brandon was breathtaking in his military uniform, and Marianne thrilled to put her hand in his at the altar. 

Sir John gave her away as her brother could not attend. He patted her hand just before he gave her away with what looked like a misting in his eyes. 

Once the ceremony was over they all adjourned to to Barton Park, where Mrs. Jennings boasted loudly of her matchmaking skills. The guests all had a merry time, and then as the sun started to make descend from it’s zenith, Colonel and Mrs. Brandon took their leave of the party. 

At long last, they were married.

* * *

Once they had settled into the carriage and Colonel Brandon had tossed gold coins into the crowd of children, he asked, “Are you happy?”

Marianne turned to him with an incandescent smile and replied. “Very. Kiss me, Christopher.”

He obliged her, tilting her head up and claiming her as his own as the crowd behind them cheered. 

It was an open air carriage for their ride back to Delaford, something that Marianne regretted very much for she would like to keep kissing her new husband until they arrived home.

Instead, he held her hand in his lap for the ride. When they got to the village near Delaford several people came out to cheer them as they passed. Marianne blushed and waved. Christopher, for his part, was beaming, waving back at the people he lived amongst with pride in his new wife. 

Delaford was a beautiful home. Not so large as Norland, but still stately and it had a wonderful inviting atmosphere. Marianne had never actually seen it, as that picnic at Delaford that had been planned was cancelled with poor timing. 

Christopher handed her out of the carriage and led her up the steps to the house. Servants gathered in the hallway to meet their new mistress. 

Marianne took one look at the servants and left her new husbands side. She started with the person closest to her. “What is your name?” she asked. 

“Sally, Ma’am.”

“And what do you do, Sally?” Marianne asked.

“I’m the cook’s assistant,” the girl answered.

“Wonderful, thank you for being here to invite me,” Marianne answered with a smile. And she moved on to the next woman, asking her name and position.

She went down the line of everyone, not changing her manner whether she was was greeting a scullery maid or the butler.

Marianne did have a few extra words for the housekeeper, Rose. “I hope you will help me gather my bearings in my first few weeks,” she said. “It’s been a long while since I’ve managed anything the size of Delaford.”

“Of course, my lady,” Rose answered with a curtsey. 

Rose gave Colonel Brandon an approving glance when Marianne had moved on to the next person. 

Once Marianne was done greeting everyone she took her place back at Colonel Brandon’s side. “I’m afraid I won’t remember all your names the first few times I see you,” she said with a laugh. “But thank you so much for being here to greet me in my new home. I’m honored.”

Colonel Brandon nodded to the housekeeper and the butler and they started to usher everyone out.

Rose stayed behind after the servants have left. “Will you be requiring supper?” she asked Marianne.

She looked to her husband. “I thought we might be to full from the wedding breakfast,” he explained.

“Yes,” Marianne said thoughtfully. “Maybe just a tea tray, and I think we will retire early tonight, it’s been a long day.”

“Very good, my lady.” Rose curtseyed.

“We’ll be in the private sitting room,” Colonel Brandon told her, and started towards the stairs.

Marianne was towed along due to her arm once again being tucked in his. Colonel Brandon led her down a hallway and into a small cozy room that had a few sofas. Marianne only got a glance at the room. Christopher was closing the door behind them, and then caught her at her waist, spinning her back towards him.

She twirled, her hands landing on his chest, and he gathered her closer with one arm, the other hand anchoring itself in her hair to tilt her head whatever way he would like it. 

He kissed her.

It wasn’t as soft as the kiss he had given her when they became engaged. This one was full of emotion that he couldn’t express, but Marianne could almost taste on his lips. She kissed him back eagerly. This was why she had ran full on into marriage. She wound her arms around his neck and held on as he claimed her. 

She had to break away for breath. She gasped as his lips continued down her neck. He turned them so Marianne was against the door. She leaned against it as her knees got weaker. 

Colonel Brandon slowly regained his sanity. His kisses slowed down, until his lips were barely brushing over her collarbone. 

“Marianne,” he whispered, as he slid his thumbs along her cheekbones. “My wife,” he said wonderingly.

She slid her hands along his shoulders. “My husband,” she said with a flirtatious smile.

He smiled back, and then stepped away. They went over to one of the sofas and sat down. 

Almost as soon as they sat down a servant knocked on the door and came in bearing a tea tray.

She put it down and retreated immediately. Marianne took a breath to steady her hands and then poured out two cups of tea. She took a small cake and nibbled on it. She stole glances at Christopher between bites. He had no such shyness, and his gaze was steady on her as she picked at the food.

She put the cake down and turned to him fully. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking, sir.”

A smile unfurled on his face. “I’m afraid my thoughts would only frighten an innocent woman such as yourself.”

“Do you not think the passion I feel for you would not lead me to similar thoughts?” Marianne asked, studying his face for his response.

Colonel Brandon’s eyes flamed.

Marianne stood carefully, keeping him seated with an out-held hand. Her heart was pounding. Her hand shook as she lifted up the hem of her dress and sat in his lap. “Colonel Brandon?” she said as she looped her arms around his neck. 

“Yes, my dear?” Their noses brushed against each other.

“I couldn’t possibly eat another bite tonight,” she said. “Perhaps we should go to bed.”

“Hmm?” he hummed, tracing his nose down her neck. She trembled.

“Kiss me, Christopher.”

She felt his smile curve against her neck, and he stood up with her in his arms. She threw her arms around his neck to keep her balance. “Not yet,” he answered. “Would you mind getting the handle?” 

She turned the handle and he carried her down the hallway to another door. She turned the handle again, and he carried her into a bedroom.

“This is your room,” he said.

He let her slide down her body so she might explore the room, but she didn’t stray from his side. She stood next to him and looked around. “It’s beautiful.” It was a deep blue and gold, and Marianne knew when she could focus on the decorations she would find them delightful.

“Would you like a moment alone?” he asked.

“No,” she responded. “I have a feeling you will be a competent lady’s maid,” she gave him a sly smile.

“Don’t count on me to take the time to hang up the dress,” Colonel Brandon said. 

“Would you help with the buttons?”

Christopher bent down to press his lips to her neck. She shivered as his fingers worked on the buttons. “Marianne, you must tell me if you wish to stop or you need to pause for a moment.” He whispered against her skin.

“I will,” she promised. 

The dress slipped off of her shoulders and puddled onto the floor. He unhooked her stays and they fell as well. The thin cloth of her shift brushed against her skin.

He stepped forward, his warm body up against her back. His hands came forward, cupping her breasts.

Marianne was quite sure her heart was going to pound right out of her chest. Her head fell back against his shoulder and she sighed. 

“You are beautiful,” he murmured against her cheek. She turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t look at him as she removed her shoes, and then her stockings. She stood up, taking a deep breath to look him in his eyes. When she looked up, his gaze was devouring the sight of her. Her shift kept moving, revealing hints at her figure. She pushed away the urge to cover up again.

She stepped forward to kiss him, and he took her into her arms. His hands went down to her backside and lifted her against him.

“I want to touch you,” she murmured against his mouth.

He stepped back from her and let her undo his own buttons on his military uniform. She slid it off of his shoulders and then untucked the loose shirt that he wore underneath. She lifted it off of his body. 

As his arms dropped back to his sides her eyes fixated on the scar that was on his left shoulder. She reached forward to trace one finger along the crescent shape.

“I was shot,” he whispered.

She pressed a palm against it. “It feels… somehow comforting, to know that a war couldn’t take you away from me.” She shook her head. “I know we hadn’t met yet, but…”

“Nothing could take me from you now that we are married,” Colonel Brandon said seriously.

His hands took two handfuls of her shift and pulled her forward against him. Her hands slid across his bare chest, it thrilled her to feel all of that bare skin. He kissed her again. His mouth moved against hers in the most tender caress that she had ever felt.

“I love you,” he whispered. He plucked at the cloth still covering her. “May I?”

Marianne clutched at his shoulders and nodded. He lifted it slowly. The fabric moving across her legs, and then her stomach, and then her breasts made Marianne shiver. She felt a stirring in her lower abdomen. An ache was beginning to form within her, she needed more of him.

She raised her arms and he pulled the shift off of her and tossed it aside. 

His eyes roved over her.

He reached out, sliding his hands down her waist to her hips. His fingers brushed against the hair at the meeting of her thighs as his hands travelled back up to cup her breasts again. 

She sat down on the edge of the bed. “My knees feel weak,” she laughed.

He smiled as he leaned down to kiss her again. He lifted her up farther on the bed and his mouth moved down her neck and even further to capture a nipple in her mouth. She gasped, tangling her fingers into his hair. 

His warm hand cupped the other breast in his hand, rolling the flesh in his palm. 

Marianne’s head fell back and she closed her eyes so she could focus on the sensations in her body.

Eventually he moved on, kissing across her stomach, over her hip bones, running his fingers along her legs.

She now felt an intense longing for him, but didn’t know quite how to sate it. 

“Let me explore you,” she whispered to him.

He stood up, quickly shed the bottom half of his clothes and climbed back on the bed, laying flat.

Marianne knelt above him. She ran a hand along his chest. 

He was magnificent. His legs were wrapped with strong muscles, he had his hands tucked behind his head, which displayed the definition of his arms. His waist was tapered, his hip bones framed his erection which was resting against his lower stomach. Marianne’s mouth watered to look at him. 

“I’m nervous,” she whispered.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Christopher reminded her. 

“I know, but I want to.”

He smiled at the look on her face. 

She reached a finger out and tentatively stroked him on the underside of erection. 

He sighed, closing his eyes.

She kissed his neck, moving down his chest. When she kissed across his stomach his muscles tightened. When she looked up at him with a question of his face he blushed, saying, “It tickles.”

She left one more light kiss on his stomach before sitting back up. She reached a hand out and slid her palm over his shaft. 

He groaned.

“Does it feel good?” she whispered.

“I cannot even describe it,” he answered.

He sat up and kissed her. “Let me touch you,” he whispered.

She nodded, feeling eager and shy about her enthusiasm. He laid her down beneath him.

His hands swept across her skin again, leaving goosebumps behind. She writhed a little on the sheets, and his hands went to her hips, holding them still. His fingers went up the inside of her thigh, and her legs fell apart. 

His fingers traced her sensitive flesh between her legs. 

“It will feel better if I prepare you,” he said.

“What does that entail?” she asked, looking up at him. 

“I’ll give you pleasure to help you relax,” he said, his eyes dark. “And I will use my fingers to help stretch you out in preparation.”

Her gaze dropped lower to look at what would be inside of her later tonight and nodded.

Christopher parted her folds and slid one finger in.

Marianne stiffened.

He paused, waiting for her to relax again. She took a deep breath and then forced her muscles to relax. His thumb stroked her clitoris and she almost shot off the bed. Her hand clamped around his wrist.

“Marianne,” he said with a smile. He leaned down to kiss her. “Let me give you pleasure.”

“Just that was too much to bear!” she said.

He chuckled low in his throat. “No, there’s much more,” he whispered into the curve of her breast as his thumb moved again.

She arched her back at the sensation and whimpered. Her hips ground down, instinctively looking for more contact. She threw an arm over her eyes to hide her embarrassment.

Christopher pulled her arm away from her face and laced his fingers through hers. He pinned her hand to the mattress. He looked into her eyes as he began to move his thumb in circles.

Marianne’s mouth fell open in a gasp. She stared at him, feeling a fire stoke within her to new heights she had never known. 

In the middle of this he slid another finger into her, and she clutched at his shoulders. 

“Please,” she moaned. “I can’t take any more.”

“Yes you can, my love,” he murmured back. He slid his fingers out of her halfway and then slide them back in.

Her eyes almost rolled back in her head at the sensation. 

“Just feel it, Marianne,” he whispered. “Let it overcome you.”

She groaned and angled her hips to let his fingers come deeper. He groaned into her neck as his thumb worked faster, pressing harder into her.

Her hips jerked upwards, she couldn’t contain them, and then she dug her fingers into his shoulders as she opened her mouth in a wordless scream. Her orgasm washed over her and left her limp.

“Christopher,” she whispered, and guided his mouth to hers as his fingers slid out of her. He grasped her hip, and she felt the wetness that he had caused inside of her.

She kissed him hungrily.

“Marianne,” he whispered. “May I? Please?”

“Yes,” she responded, curling her fingers into his hair. “Yes.”

He knelt between her legs and lifted her knees. He placed a pillow beneath her hips and then stopped, looking at her. 

“You’re ready?” he asked.

She nodded. 

He pushed in slowly. Marianne felt a slight burn as he stretched her even more than he already had. She forced her muscles to relax, to welcome him in. His expression was tight as he watched her.

Then his hipbones were pressed against her thighs. He pressed a little closer and she sighed, shifting to open her legs wider. 

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Yes.” She reached out to place a palm on his chest. “Make me your wife in deed as well as name, Christopher.”

He grabbed her hand and let out a slow exhale. “You make it hard to take this slowly.”

She wiggled her hips, feeling the fulness of him inside of her. “Please,” she begged.

He withdrew slightly and then pushed back in.

Marianne threw her head back and let out a rush of air. “More,” she demanded.

He obliged, moving at a steady pace that slowly picked up. His hands found her hips to hold her steady. Her breasts bounced back and forth on her chest with his force. She clenched her legs behind his back to try to bring him deeper. 

When his orgasm came he shuddered in her arms. 

She clutched him closer, feeling triumphant.

He rolled off her and collapsed onto the bed. Marianne quickly scooted closer to lay her head on his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“Marianne,” he whispered. His fingers traced the shape fo his face and he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I love you.”

She propped her chin up to look at him. “I love you,” she answered.

“May I stay?” he asked, uncertainty in his eyes.

She tightened her grip on him. “I would not allow you to leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind comments. I really was nervous about posting a fic again. Anyway, I decided to post the subsequent stuff I have written. I think I'll have two more chapters after this.


	3. Chapter 3

Elinor and Edward’s wedding was beautiful. Elinor radiated a quiet happiness that Marianne could feel deep into her bones.

True to her word she had kept a close eye on the parsonage to ensure it would be properly ready for her sister.

They hosted the wedding breakfast at Delaford, Marianne’s first true event as mistress of the estate. It all went very smoothly.After all, the staff at Delaford had functioned well without her for many years.

They saw Elinor and Edward off to their parsonage with waves and showers of rice as they climbed into the carriage that would take them to their home.

Mrs. Jennings and Sir John invited themselves to stay at Delaford for several days after the wedding. Marianne begged her mother and Margaret to stay the same length of time to help mitigate the teasing she would receive from Mrs. Jennings.

“I must say, Mrs. Brandon you have a healthy glow about you,” Mrs. Jennings said the morning after the wedding. “I wonder why that could be?” She cast a conspiratorial glance at the Colonel.

“No doubt because I have a wonderful husband,” Marianne answered.

“Yes, yes, the Colonel is very generous. And I’m sure his love for you makes him spoil you greatly.”

Marianne looked down at her plate, studiously spearing scrambled eggs.

“We have a picnic planned for today,” Colonel Brandon said, effectively changing the topic. “We thought we might make use of the grounds.”

“Oh, can we practice our archery?” Margaret asked eagerly.

“I had planned on it,” Colonel Brandon answered her with a smile.

The picnic was held under a clear blue sky. It was nothing less than pure joy that Marianne felt as she watched her husband give Margaret tips on her archery. He was patient and fun. Now that they had married he smiled much more.

“He’ll make quite a good father,” Mrs. Jennings said, following her gaze.

Her words only echoed Marianne’s thoughts, but she was annoyed that her neighbor was still trying to maneuver her life.

“I do hope you produce an heir soon, Marianne,” Mrs. Jennings said. “A nice healthy boy.”

“Delaford is not entailed, so a healthy daughter would do just as well,” Marianne shot back.

“Yes, well you know men, they always prefer a son.”

Marianne bit back a retort that _her_ husband surely wouldn’t be so shallow, but she refrained. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Marianne said with a tight smile, and she got up and walked over to the archery line. 

“Marianne is a terrible shot,” Margaret said with a superior look as she addressed the Colonel. “She’ll need a lifetime of your teaching.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing she has it then,” Colonel Brandon said, and gave Marianne a smile.

Marianne blushed and nocked an arrow. She drew her arm back and sighted down shaft. As soon as she let go she knew it was a bad shot. The arrow swerved to the left of the target and buried itself in the knoll behind the bullseye.

“Lower your elbow,” Colonel Brandon said. 

Marianne nocked another arrow and felt her husband come up behind her. “When you let go you start to drop your left arm, you need to keep it steady until the arrow is completely free of the bow.”

She could almost feel his chest brush against his back. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She let go of her second arrow and this time it went to the right of the target. Margaret jumped up and went to retrieve the arrows.

“I don’t think I’ll improve with you so close, sir,” she said in a low voice.

“Do you think we could retire for a nap after the picnic?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. his hand reached out to snake it’s way down her side in a quick caress.

Marianne felt her skin heat up, and her legs clenched together in anticipation. “I’m getting tired already,” she murmured back.  
His smile was blinding.

* * *

The day after the party left Marianne got out of bed, went to the chamberpot, and then went straight back to bed.

It wasn’t until Christopher came in midday that she stirred.

“Marianne? Are you ill?” he asked, wrenching his jacket off and coming to sit on the edge of the bed. He pressed a hand to her face, trying to ascertain if she had a fever.

“No, I’m not ill.” Her lip began to tremble and then she buried her face in the pillows to hid her sobs.

“Marianne?” Colonel Brandon was truly alarmed now. He crawled onto his side of the bed and gathered her up in his arms.

“Oh, I’m being silly,” Marianne said. “Truly, I am fine.”

“What has happened?”

“I thought …” She dissolved into tears again. She had to take several deep fortifying breaths to get through her story. “I thought I might have been pregnant. And when Mrs. Jennings made all those references to a future child, I’m afraid my hopes were raised even more just thinking about it.”

“Ah,” Christopher said, pushing her hair back. “And you are not with child?”

Marianne shook her head.

“My love, it will happen.”

Marianne pressed against him and he tightened his hold on her. “Stay with me a few moments, Christopher.”

“I’ll stay with you as long as you need,” he said simply.

* * *

A few days later Christopher informed her he would need to ride into the village to see the blacksmith about something.

“Oh, may I come with you?” Marianne asked. “I’d like to visit the dressmaker. I need a sturdier coat for this winter, I believe my old one is too thin.”

“Of course, would you like the carriage or to walk into town?”

“Oh, let’s walk,” Marianne exclaimed, setting her sewing aside. “Just let me grab my shawl.”

He waited for her by the door, and when she came down the stairs he looked at her with such love that she almost started crying.

“If we have time, we should stop by Elinor’s and see if everything is to her liking, we haven’t seen her since the wedding.”

“Yes, we should have them to the house for supper one of these nights,” Christopher answered as he opened the door for her.

“Oh, yes, I would love that.” Marianne smiled. “I am so happy they live so close.”

He held his arm out for her and they walked into the village together, happily conversing. 

He dropped her off at the tailor’s where she went in and had her jacket ordered in short order. The seamstress already had her measurements from making a few new dresses for her, so it was a simple matter of picking out the fabric and style that she liked. 

Her business was done so quickly that Marianne decided to walk down to the blacksmith to meet her husband rather than wait for him there.

Almost as soon as she stepped out of the shop she heard someone call, “Miss Marianne!”

She turned automatically and then physically recoiled when she saw who it was. Willoughby stood across the street, and he crossed over to speak to her before she even took a single step.

“I am not Miss Marianne anymore, Mr. Willoughby,” she told him sternly.

“Yes, I heard.” His gaze raked over her critically, as if trying to determine if there were any changes in her since they had last met.

“If you would let me pass, I will go meet my husband,” she emphasized the last word. 

He didn’t move. “Perhaps you’ve heard that my Aunt is ailing, that’s why I’m back in the county.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” Marianne said shortly. 

“Yes,” Willoughby absently, still examining her face. “She has forgiven me of my faults now, so I stand to inherit everything after all.” He twisted his mouth in an approximation of a smile. 

“Congratulations,” she said shortly. She moved to step around him, but he stepped with her.

“I do wonder Marianne, has your romantic nature survived our encounter?” he asked abruptly.

“I beg your pardon?” Marianne took a step back from him, trying to create space between their bodies.

“You always so loved the notion of star-crossed lovers. Is there anything more romantic than two lovers reuniting?” he asked, stepping in closer. She could feel his breath on her face.

Marianne felt an intense flash of anger surge through her. Had she acted so wantonly that Willoughby would think it was acceptable to propose the idea of an affair? 

“Indeed, loyalty to one's spouse is much more romantic,” Marianne answered. Her eyes scanned the street. The blacksmith with just a few buildings down, but she had no way of knowing when Colonel Brandon would exit. Otherwise the street was almost barren, just a few people at the end of the lane.

Willoughby rolled his eyes at her comment. He kept pressing forward until Marianne’s back was against the wall of the shop.

“You can’t possibly feel the same way about him as you felt about me.”

“I do not,” she said curtly. “I care much more for him than I ever cared for you.”

Willoughby put one hand on the wall beside her head and a look of amazement crossed his face. “I thought you didn’t believe in second attachments?” 

Marianne tried to slide out from beneath him, but his hand closed around her upper arm.

Fury beset her again. A quick scan showed that there weren’t enough people on the street to deter Willoughby from touching her. Well, perhaps she shouldn’t let it deter her either.

“Let go of me,” she hissed.

“I thought we were still talking,” he said with a lazy smile. She used to love that smile.

Marianne tried to yank her arm away from him discreetly, but his grip only tightened.

“Think about it, Marianne,” he implored, looking into her eyes. “We could still be together, in a fashion.”

The combination of him reiterating the possibility of an affair along with him using her Christian name again prompted a reaction out of her.

She slammed her knee up into his groin and watched him stagger back.

Marianne felt an intense satisfaction with the way his face turned pink and he swore under his breath.

“Do _not_ speak to me about this again,” she said, and turned around, intending to flee to the blacksmith shop.

She stopped short at the sight of Colonel Brandon hurrying towards her, his eyes darting between her and Willoughby, who was leaning against the shop for support.

Marianne hurried to intercept her husband, who tried to push past her to confront Willoughby, but Marianne held his arm fast.

“My love,” she implored. “I do not want to waste any more time on him today.”

“Did he hurt you?” Colonel Brandon asked.

“No,” she assured him. “Although I may have hurt him.”

Colonel Brandon’s eyes ran over the form that Willoughby was in and looked at her with a questioning gaze.

“My knee may have … jumped,” Marianne admitted. 

Colonel Brandon stared at her incredulously and then laughed, one short bark.

“I doubt he’ll speak to me again after that,” she added. “Let’s go home.”

Colonel Brandon put an arm around her waist, a gesture not entirely appropriate for an open street, and guided her to the end of the lane. 

“Let us cut through the trees,” he suggested, deviating from the path.

Marianne followed him willingly, still caught up in thoughts about her encounter with Willoughby.

After a few minutes of walking Colonel Brandon stopped and looked at her. “Tell me everything,” he said.

Marianne hesitated; she was so ashamed of herself. She sighed. She could not keep this secret from her husband.

“He proposed an affair,” she answered.

Colonel Brandon’s face turned stormy.

“I didn’t even want to speak to him!” Marianne cried. “I certainly don’t want to be his lover.”

Colonel Brandon came closer, trapped her against a tree. “I know you do not,” he said.

“You do?” Marianne looked up at him with eyes full of tears.

“Yes, of course.” He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheekbone. “I just wish I had the chance to hurt him as well.”

Marianne laughed a little. “I feel so ashamed.”

“Why,” Colonel Brandon lifted her chin so she would look at him again. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Not today,” Marianne agreed. “But the way I acted before. He must have had reason to believe that I would accept his offer. Was I such a harlot?”

“No,” Colonel Brandon framed her face in his hands. “You were a girl who fancied herself in love.”

Marianne snorted. She slipped her hands under his jacket to brace her hands against his sides, grounding herself.

“He’s kicking himself,” Christopher said. “If he’d offered for you sooner he’d have you and his aunt may not have disinherited him.”

“She’s taken him back apparently,” she said morosely. “It seems he receives no punishment for his actions.”

“He’s punished enough,” Christopher said. “He has to see you married to someone else. I was much smarter, I offered for you the moment you showed any affection for me.”

Marianne laughed and framed his face with her hands. “I am so happy I married you,” she said. “I am much happier with you.”

His eyes roved over her face, and landed at her mouth. “Marianne,” Christopher said in a rough voice. “Would you mind terribly if I gave into baser instincts?”

“What would those be?” she asked. For a moment she thought about him charging back to find Willoughby and challenging him to a duel. 

He tilted her head back and used his thumb to pull her chin down and open her mouth. His eyes flamed.

“I find the idea of rushing back to the house to claim you as my wife would take too long.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek.

“Here?” she asked, her pulse jumped as she looked around. There were just trees as far as she could see.

“Here,” he confirmed, looking at her. 

Marianne clutched at him. “I am yours to command.”

His expression darkened with lust. He stepped back and ripped his jacket off, laying it down on the small patch of grass. Then he took her shawl and laid it down as well, enlarging the makeshift blanket.

His hands enveloped her waist, bring her down to the forest floor with him. He hovered over her, pulling her skirts up.

“I don’t want to wait,” he said, searching her face for permission.

Marianne nodded. She wanted him so badly already.

He unbuttoned his breeches with fumbling fingers, and then she felt him nudge against her.

He guided himself into her slowly. Marianne tilted her hips up. He started moving slowly, staring into her eyes the entire time. He sped up quickly, and soon he was slamming into her with wild abandon. 

Marianne loved the wild look on his face. It gave her pleasure to watch him take her so authoritatively. 

One of his hands went beneath her skirts and a finger rested on her clit, letting the movement of their bodies stimulate her against his finger.

Marianne felt the shuddering force build in her until she was coming apart underneath him. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Her other hand dug into his bicep so hard she was sure her fingernails would leave marks.

Christopher looked pleased, and very proud as he pushed into her a few more times before stilling. 

He leaned down to kiss her, and she tangled her fingers into his hair and held him there to kiss him as long as she could before she needed a fresh breath.

He kissed along her jaw tenderly. 

“I am yours, Christopher,” she whispered.

He groaned against her neck. “Let us go home,” he said roughly. “And then I will take you again.”

Marianne’s entire body tightened at the thought. “Yes,” she breathed.

They hurried home, but they did not make it the the bedroom. As soon as they entered through the door Colonel Brandon rushed her into his study on the first floor and locked the door behind them. 

He had her pressed against the door and was kissing her before she could even breathe.

She clutched him closer, groaning when his mouth went down her neck, nipping at her collarbone.

He lifted her and carried her over to the sofa in the room where he gathered her skirts up and knelt in front of her.

She watched as he disappeared into her dress, and then she felt his tongue on her clit. She gasped. She was already stimulated from their last encounter on the forest floor, so it didn’t take long for her to be gasping his name. Her first orgasm washed over her, leaving her feeling limp. But her second came immediately as Christopher didn’t stop using his tongue. Her body tightened and shook as she came apart again. 

“Christopher,” she gasped.

He changed his angle slightly, and Marianne began to writhe on the sofa. “Please, please, Christopher.” She begged.

He didn’t stop. She came again, her hips bucking his mouth off of her and leaving her feeling incredibly empty.

He emerged from beneath her dress with a determined look. He stood up, pulling her up with him.

“My legs …” Marianne wobbled, “are not working.”

He positioned her to face his desk and came up right behind her. His hands settled on her hips.

“Lean over and brace yourself on the desk,” he whispered.

Marianne shivered and did as he told her to. She leaned on her forearms and when he nudged her legs apart she parted them as commanded.

He flipped her skirts up and pressed into her quickly.

Marianne groaned at the sensation. He took her hard again, and she loved every single second of it. 

He slammed into her and Marianne couldn’t stop making noises. She groaned, she moaned his name, she knocked a book of the desk as her fingers gripped the edge of the wood. 

A few more slams and he stilled, holding her to him.

When he slipped out of her she staggered back to the sofa to sit down. 

He tucked himself back in to his trousers and sat next to her. Marianne immediately collapsed into him. “I need to take a nap,” she mumbled.

“I do too,” he admitted.

“Mmmm,” she curled her fingers into his shirt. “Christopher, I love making love with you.”

His fingers covered hers. “I do too.”

Together they staggered upstairs to their bed and fell asleep in each others arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to put in the obligatory seeing Willoughby again scene!


	4. Chapter 4

Colonel Brandon joined Marianne for breakfast with a small smile.

“Marianne, I’ve been meaning to speak with you about something important for a while now.” He finished loading his plate from the sideboard and sat down at the table with her.

Marianne finished her bite and put down her knife and fork with a quiver of trepidation. 

“What is it?” she asked.

“I should have done this sooner, but I was enjoying our time together.” He flashed her a smile. “If you agree, of course, I would like it if you invited your mother and Margaret to live with us.”

Marianne stilled, surprised. “I hadn’t even thought of it,” she said honestly.

“Of course, if they prefer the cottage, I understand. A measure of independence is not something to scoff at, but I should like them to know that the invitation is open to them should they need or want it.”

“That is very generous,” Marianne said, staring across the table at her husband.

He shifted uncomfortably. “They are my family too now, you know.”

Marianne stood up and came around to the other side of the table. She leaned down and kissed, long and deep. By the time she straightened her lips were warm, and her belly quivered. 

“I will write to Mama and see what she thinks.” She told him.

Colonel Brandon squeezed her hand in thanks.

After breakfast Colonel Brandon had ridden out to check on the tenants and make sure the farmers had what they needed.Marianne went to the pianoforte and sat down. She played automatically, her fingers retracing the notes they’d played a hundred times before.

Her mind was in a whir. She was in a state of constant excitement these days, examining her body in hopes that it would reveal some sign that she was with child. She probably wouldn’t conceive until she stopped thinking about it so much, she thought ruefully. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted a child with her husband’s features that she could teach to play the pianoforte, and he would ride off with Christopher on errands on days like today. Or perhaps a girl, who she would still teach the pianoforte, of course, and help her learn how to sew and manage the household. 

Marianne stood up from the piano feeling impatient. Nothing could hold her attention for long these days, it seemed. She struggled to read, to sew, to plan meals. She felt as if she were in a constant state of waiting. Waiting to conceive.

She sat down on the sofa and gave herself a firm talking to. 

“There is no guarantee that I will even have a child,” she whispered to herself. “Fixating on the idea will only bring me grief. I need to live my life and if it happens then be overjoyed with the news.” She stared very hard at a section of the carpet as she whispered it. She willed the words into herself. In a few days she would know if this cycle she had conceived or not. But she would not think on it overmuch until then.

Marianne stood up, straightened her skirts, and resolved to take a walk and visit with Elinor. 

* * *

Marianne was picking flowers in the hothouse when her husband came in. “Where is the gardener?” he asked.

“His wife has approached the time of her lying in. I watered the plants for him today,” Marianne responded.

Christopher came up behind her, crowding her against the table. “Then we are alone?” he growled, his lips going to her neck.

She arched her neck, providing him more access. “Yes,” she answered.

His hands went to her breasts, fondling them through her dress. “I have been thinking about you all morning,” he groaned, and flipped her around so he could kiss her. He pressed her so hard against the table that Marianne’s hips hurt from the wood digging into her. But she kissed him back, enthusiastically. She loved when he became possessive like this. It made her feel wanted.

One of his hands dipped below her neckline and pulled one of her breasts out.

“Christopher,” she gasped. “Anyone could walk in.”

He lifted her to sit on the table and leaned down to suck her nipple into her mouth. She groaned, clutching his head to her. She could already feel the slickness between her legs. She wanted him badly. 

He sucked hard, and then pulled her other breast out. Her neckline would be stretched out rather hopelessly after this, she thought absently. But it didn’t matter when his tongue swept across her other nipple. 

His hands went under her dress. He slid two fingers into her quickly, and she gasped, nearly jumping off of the table. He moved them in and out, stimulating her. 

“Harder,” she gasped. 

He looked up at her with dark eyes and obliged. His fingers slammed into her with all of his strength, and she whimpered, clutching at his shoulders. She wanted more. She wanted his fingers to bruise her hips and for his teeth to sink into her shoulder. She wanted to be claimed wholly by him. 

He paused with his movements to focus on swirling his thumb around her clit. The first contact had her clasping her legs around his waist and groaning. “Please,” she whispered. 

He leaned forward to suck on her breast again, while his thumb swirled around her clit. She almost sobbed from the overstimulation, and her hips lifted of their own volition. He stopped playing with her clit and slammed his fingers into her again. He went as hard as he could, and she clutched at his hair, at his shoulders, at his torso to maintain some sort of sanity.

Then he knelt down and lifted her skirts up. He lifted one of her feet up onto the table so her leg was bent. She was spread open to him. He lowered his mouth and licked her clit.

“More,” she begged. “Please, more.”

He buried his face into her, licking her, moving his fingers in her. She writhed helplessly, feeling the coming of the climax. When she orgasmed she did it so hard that her hips snapped up over and over again, seeking more friction. 

She slammed her forearm over her mouth so she would not scream.

Christopher stood up with a pleased expression on his face. He tugged her down from the table.

“To the chair,” he said.

She went and sat in it, looking up at him bewildered. 

He was unbuttoning his trousers, looking impatient.

“No,” he said. “Kneel down in front of it.”

Oh, perhaps he wanted her mouth on him as well, Marianne thought and knelt down facing the chair.

Instead of him sitting in it he knelt behind her. He gathered her skirts up in both hands and pushed her shoulders down so her back was parallel to the ground. He slid himself into her slowly, hissing through his teeth as he did so.

Marianne rocked back into him, feeling the length of him slide all the way in. She let out a small sound.

Christopher swore quietly.

“Marianne,” he sounded pained.

She looked back at him. “Don’t go softly,” she begged, giving him permission for what he needed, to take her and take her as hard as he wanted.

He nodded back at her. His hands found her hips and he slid out of her and back in while his fingers flexed on her.

He did it again, slowly.

“Christopher, you’re teasing me,” Marianne protested. “Take me now.”

His fingers tightened so hard that Marianne thought that on the morrow she might have the bruises she desired.

He slammed into her so hard that she cried out, clutching at the chair in front of her for stability.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” she panted. “Don’t stop!”

With her reassurance he tightened his grip once more and slammed into her again and again.

Marianne reveled in how primal of the position was, she delighted in the force he exerted, and thrilled at the thought of his seed filling her, perhaps getting her with child. 

She could hear their bodies slamming together, and though it should have sounded strange it only heightened her arousal. 

As he slid into her again and again he reached up to palm a breast, and tugged on the nipple a little.

Marianne cried out, and braced herself more firmly.

“Faster,” she choked out. She was so close to her second orgasm that she began to have trouble focusing her sight on anything. The wicker weave of the chair in front of her blurred as Chris repositioned his hands on her hips and heeded her plea. The slap of their flesh became louder and quicker.

Marianne dug her fingers into the armchair. He felt so good inside of her. This thrust of him reached so deep it would have been painful had it not been so pleasurable. She dropped the small of her back and pushed her hips up more. He somehow got even deeper, and there was more pain and more pleasure.

She cried out, her nails scratching over the wicker weave, and her hips snapped back against his as she came again.

He let out an explosive breath as he remained deep inside of her. 

She panted, feeling her body relax slowly.

He did a few more lazy thrusts that made her shudder. 

“Mmm, Marianne,” he said in his deep voice.

She laughed a little. “I think you like to make love to me outside of our bedroom, sir,” she said breathlessly.

“Anywhere,” he said in a gravelly tone. “And anytime you would have me.”

She tilted her hips towards him and pushed back on him. “I’d have you every second of the day if I could,” she said.

He groaned and slipped out of her. There was a rustling sound from behind her, and then a gentle touch of fabric between her legs as he wiped her off with his handkerchief. She trembled at the touch, she was oversensitive now after climaxing twice. 

When he was done and he rearranged her skirts over her, she hauled herself up into the chair.

He still knelt in front of her so she reached forward and pulled his face towards her. She peppered kisses over his jaw, over his cheekbone and his nose, unable to get enough of him.

“Marianne,” he whispered.

“I love when you say my name like I am a thing to be worshipped,” she murmured back.

“You are,” he answered. His hands slid across her sides, down to her hips and up to her shoulder blades.

“I also love when you take me as if I am anything but a thing to be worshipped,” she whispered in his ear, surprised at her own daring.

“Truly?” He looked over at her. 

She hummed in his ear. She kept her face away from his sight as best she could to hide her blushing cheeks. Marianne peeled back the collar of his shirt and kissed his neck.

“We could try … other things,” he said quietly. “If you would like.”

“What other things?”

“I could tie you up?” he said it as a question, unsure of what she would like.

A thrill ran through her as she saw him standing over her in her minds eye. Him with complete power, her helpless but to take his touch.

“And perhaps another time you could tie me up as well,” he whispered. 

Marianne’s hands tightened in his shirt and she bit down lightly on his neck. He flexed his hands on her hips. 

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Let us do that.”

* * *

Marianne had just made herself comfortable in bed when Colonel Brandon came in. He stepped over to the dresser and began undoing his cuffs.

“I have some news,” Marianne said. 

“Oh?” He turned to look at her. 

“Yes, I received an answer from my mother today, she said she is not sure if she would like to live here or not. I thought I’d invite them for another stay, without Mrs. Jennings and Sir John so they might see what it would be like.”

“A good idea,” Colonel Brandon smiled at her in the mirror.

“I think she will be persuaded to come live here shortly,” Marianne mused. “It’s much more comfortable than the cottage.”

“We can certainly absorb Thomas and Betsy into the staff here, so they won’t lose their jobs,” Colonel Brandon replied.

“They’ll have to be given rooms in a different part of the house,” Marianne said. “I wouldn’t want to wake them up in the middle of the night.”

Colonel Brandon gave her an odd look.

“You know, what with the baby.” Marianne said as casually as she could manage.

She fought to keep her face still as Colonel Brandon sat up with alacrity. “Baby?” he repeated in a strangled voice.

Marianne couldn’t keep her smile back any longer. Her mouth stretched so wide it hurt. 

“Don’t you think my mother would want to live near her first grandchild?” Marianne asked, laughing.

Colonel Brandon bounded onto the bed, open cuffs flapping as he captured her face. He kissed her, quick and brutal and ran a hand over her stomach. “A baby,” he said.

Marianne covered his hand with her own. “Physical representation of our bond, and, I’m sure, a very handsome addition to our family.”

“We have a family,” Colonel Brandon said faintly. 

“Tiny fingers and toes,” Marianne sighed happily. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

Christopher gathered up her night dress and pulled it up right under her breasts. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her abdomen. “I never thought I’d have children,” he said quietly.

Marianne used her hand to tilt his chin up. “Are you happy?”

His eyes were filled with tears. “I am so happy, Marianne.” She wiped away a tear that escaped down his cheek. “I am so happy I feel I cannot contain it.”

“I love you,” she said to him. “I love this life that we have built for ourselves.”

Christopher crawled up her body and kissed her as if it were the first time all over again.


End file.
